


Tea time is fine, until someone brings a gun. Then it is just interesting

by frostedshadow



Series: It's All Fun Until Someone Gets Hurt... Then It's Hilarious [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: Everything but James Bond/Q is side, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Q is just really stressed, tea with brothers suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedshadow/pseuds/frostedshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is stressed, 007 is an ass, and the Holmes brothers really need to learn what boundaries are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea time is fine, until someone brings a gun. Then it is just interesting

Q was, in a word, exhausted. James finding the pen had, in all sadness, been the highlight of his week. It did not help that, for the entirety of the week, Mycroft and Sherlock had been texting him about their tea. They had been having an argument, through Q, and he was quite fed up with the pair. To make matters worse, James had gone off the grid. Q was nearly positive that the 00 agent was sulking. Q huffed to himself, and glared at his computer screen. 

“Go home, Q.” Eve poked her nose into Q’s office. Q quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“Why should I?” He growled at her. 

“You are starting to scare your underlings. When they come running to me, then we have a problem. So, buck up, pack up and go home.” Q would have snarled at Eve, but, well, it was hard to be mad at her when she said it with a smile. 

“Fine, but only for you.” Q groused. He snagged his brief case, his coat, and kissed Eve’s cheek on the way out. It did nothing to ease his mood, when he heard the soft cheer from his underlings when he left. Q kept the scowl on his face, as he practically barreled through MI6. His mood, kept others on the tube away from him. 

Q allowed his annoyance to propel him home. His flat was small, with two bedrooms, one of which that had been turned into a workroom/ armory. His kitchen served it’s purpose, and his living room was generally littered with tea cups, gun magazines and computer parts. Because, watching Doctor Who while designing a gun was a perfectly acceptable form of multi tasking. Q’s flat was cozy, and perfect for him, and the occasional guest. Which is why Q was less than prepared to find four men on his couch and arm chair. 

“Dammit, don’t you two have any privacy?” Q snarled. He tossed his briefcase in the general direction of his room, and flung his coat into the closet. 

“Oh, Quillan, don’t be so testy.” Mycroft sighed from his spot on the couch. 

“Yes, lets all agree with Mycroft.” Sherlock snarked. He was perched in one of Q’s arm chair’s, his favorite one, the one closest to where John was sitting on the couch. 

“Boys, behave.” Gregory Lestrade sighed tiredly. He was not impressed with this entire situation. Mycroft had, essentially, kidnapped him when he was on his way home. Then, he had been brought here, where he was informed that Sherlock had broken in. He had been enraged, until he learned the identity of the owner. It did nothing to ease his conscience, however, that the flat belonged to another Holmes. 

“It’s Q now, and who the hell are they?” Q glared at his brothers, and stormed into his kitchen. The four men watched him rattle around, and put a kettle on. 

“The gentleman beside me is Greg, and the one beside him is John.” Mycroft introduced simply. 

“Yes, the police officer and the doctor. I am aware of who they are. But why. Are. They. Here.” Q dragged it out. With a pointed glare at Sherlock, he flopped into the arm chair closest to his kitchen. 

“Tea time.” Sherlock groused. His expression told everyone how he felt about this. 

“What do you mean, you know who we are?” John sputtered. 

“Grow up, John. Did you honestly think that our baby brother would be anything short of remarkable?” Mycroft hummed. If it had been any other day, Q would have preened under the praise from his oldest brother. With Sherlock around, praise had not been handed out through Q’s childhood. 

“Well, if I had known you had another brother...” John grumbled. He crossed his arms, and pushed himself further into the couch. 

“We aren’t supposed to talk about him.” Sherlock almost-whined in reply. The glare John sent him, however, told Sherlock that this was not, by any means, an adequate explanation. 

“You aren’t still upset about that, are you?” Q snarked petulantly. Abruptly, he stood, and attended to his now whistling kettle. Acting somewhat childish, Q only made himself a cup of tea. “Really, Sherlock? Since when do you let others get the last word?” Q mused, his back to the living room. 

“You know these people?” Q whipped around, and almost dropped his mug of tea. A slightly battered James Bond stood in his living room, gun pulled, and pointed. Both John and Greg were sitting upright, looks of surprise on their faces. 

“Yes! Dammit, 007, put the gun down! What the hell is the matter with you?” Q growled at the 00 agent. 

“Ah, I was wondering when your agent was going to show up.” Mycroft commented silkily. 

“He’s not my agent.” Q sighed. He strode into his living room, and kicked Sherlock’s leg. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Q, and stubbornly stayed put. The two Holmes’ _boys_ stared at each other, while the sounds of James putting his gun away could be heard. 

“What exactly is happening?” Greg quirked an eyebrow at Mycroft. It was quite clear that, out of the Holmes’, Mycroft was the only reasonably sane one. 

“Q and Sherlock tend to stare at one another until one of them folds. The maids used to take bets on the outcome.” Mycroft replied dryly. 

“Q?” James questioned softly. 

“You must forgive my brother, 007. He does get testy when someone sits in his chair. I am his older brother, Mycroft, and that is our other brother, Sherlock. The other gentlemen are John and Greg.” Mycroft informed James. James looked form Mycroft, to his Quartermaster and Sherlock. When it became apparent that neither of the younger Holmes were going to move, James settled himself on the armchair Q had recently vacated. 

“I see. And you are in his apartment because?” James let the question hang, his voice soft and deadly. 

“I dare say that Sherlock and I have more of a reason to be here than you do, Mr. Bond. Though, if you must know, Sherlock and I thought it would be appropriate to officially introduce our little brother to our... _menfolk_ ” Mycroft replied smoothly. Q’s back stiffened slightly, and Sherlock snorted at Mycroft. 

“Really, Mycroft? Leave them alone. Honestly, you don’t have to push buttons.” Greg chastised his boyfriend softly. Mycroft met his gaze, and shrugged. 

“James? Why are you here?” Q’s voice drifted into the conversation, though he was still staring at his brother. 

“You know how I feel about... medical.” James drawled. His words had the desired affect; Q whipped around, tea spilling on Sherlock. Sherlock yelped, and kicked his brother, who then stumbled. James was on his feet, with his arms wrapped around Q, before the young man could fall. Q was shocked to find himself dripping tea, and in James’ arms. 

“Really, Quillan, one would think that an agent for MI6 would have better balance.” Sherlock smirked at the pair. Q felt, rather than heard, James growl. Q gently righted himself, and lightly pushed James away from himself. 

“It’s Q, Sherlock. And it is rather hard to keep one’s balance, when one’s older brother kicks them. Here.” Q tossed his now empty mug at Sherlock, then turned his attention to James. “No you can’t kill him, and what did you do?” Q hummed, his eyes roaming over James, trying to spot any injury. 

“Amazing. You should go into business as a mind reader. And, honestly, it’s just a scratch.” James replied evenly. 

“A scratch? Do you really think I believe you? The last time you said ‘just a scratch’ you needed fifteen stitches.” Q snarked back. He pressed a hand to James’ shoulder, and bodily shoved the older man onto a chair. James rolled his eyes, then pulled his shirt up, to reveal a bandage on his left side. John rose form his chair, and stood beside Q; the pair stared at James until the man huffed, and peeled the bandage back. Q drew in a sharp breath, and John’s eyes widened. 

“You idiot! You should have gone to medical. Honestly, I don’t understand you.” Q snapped at him. 

“Do you have a medical kit? I can stitch him up.” John offered quietly. Q stopped his tirade, and looked over at the man his brother loved. Originally, when Mycroft had told him about John, Q had been skeptical. In his mind’s eye, it would take a mad man to love Sherlock. Yet, here in the flesh, was a semi normal man who was, well, nice. 

“Please, do. It’s in the kitchen. I am going to shower. Try not to kill each other while I am gone.” Q sighed, suddenly very tired again. 

“What, I don’t get a say in this?” James petulantly. 

“Of course not.” Q’s voice floated out from his bedroom. 

“I wouldn’t argue with him. He is as stubborn as Sherlock, when he sets his mind to something.” Mycroft remarked quietly. James huffed, then shifted so John could get a better look at his side. 

“So, what exactly are your intentions towards our baby brother?” Sherlock asked, once they heard the shower turn on. 

“Sherlock!” Greg and John simultaneously yelled at the consulting detective. 

“Please, answer that Mr. Bond. I should very much like to hear your answer.” Mycroft commanded softly. The two Holmes men fixed James with a stare. Greg sighed in annoyance, and pushed himself into the sofa. John rolled his eyes at the pair, and went in search of the first aid kit. 

“I don’t think thats any of your business.” James replied stonily. 

“Actually, it is. See, I can tell that you care for him deeply. More so than any of your previous female lovers. Tell me, Mr. Bond. Will you tire of my little brother, and leave him heartbroken? Or will he be the straw to break the camel’s back?” Sherlock mused. 

Q knew, honestly, he did, that it was never a good idea to leave Sherlock alone with people who did not know him. He really should have known that leaving the five of them alone was a bad idea. And, honestly, he should not have been surprised to enter his living room to find Sherlock hog tied, and gagged. Really, what did surprise him, was that James had actually let John stitch him up. 

“Thank you, James, for showing some restraint.” Q sighed. James quirked an eyebrow, and shrugged. 

“ _That_ was restraint?” Greg groused. 

“My dear Gregory, Mr. Bond is a 00 agent of MI6. Anything short of murder is showing restraint.” Mycroft responded plainly. Q turned, and caught a fainting John, before the man could fall to the ground. 

“Really Mycroft, was that necessary?” Q sighed, and carefully dragged the other man to the couch. 

“Perhaps not. At least now they are aware.” Mycroft replied. He looked over at Greg, who was very pale. 

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do it like that. James, how is your si-” Q cut himself off, when he realized that James was no longer in the room. 

“I like him, brother. He made Sherlock shut up.” Mycroft and Q shared a grin. 

“Yes, he is rather nice, isn’t he.” Q smirked in response, then settled himself into his favorite chair. 

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Mycroft smiled warmly at his brother when a smile was his only reply. “We shall make a proper Holmes of you yet, Quillan.”


End file.
